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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582564">Chasing Dusk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_touched/pseuds/star_touched'>star_touched</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Meeting, How They Met, M/M, Slow Burn, lantern festival, ruthari, tinker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:00:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_touched/pseuds/star_touched</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the night of the Moonshadow lantern festival, and Runaan — who never makes mistakes — is about to make three.</p><p>Or, how Runaan and Ethari first met.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Ruthari - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chasing Dusk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a buzz in the pre-dawn air, an excitement throughout the Silvergrove. Though Fall was just around the corner, the foliage was still full and green, and heartbloom flowers glowed faely under the light of Summer’s last full moon.</p><p>It was the night of the lantern festival.</p><p>Runaan watched from a distance — like he did most things — as families and friends made their way towards the river, paper lotus lanterns in hand ready to be lit and sent downstream in honor off the dead. It was a night most anticipated, filled with music and festival foods, dancing and laughter, fond memories exchanged over too many skins of berry wine. The paper lanterns were the closing ritual, set to drift under the full moon and carry the prayers of the living to the dead.</p><p>Runaan stood divorced from the festivities, casting his eyes across the plaza to ensure everything was as it should be before invoking his shadow-form and stealthing into the trees. He was on night watch. Had requested it, as he did every year. It was a convenient excuse not to partake in the celebrations (and avoid the look of pity in Lain’s eyes). Such events always left Runaan feeling uneasy. They were too loud, too crowded, too…invasive. Besides, someone had to keep watch while the rest of the grove celebrated, and he was nothing if not dutiful. Using his talents to protect his people gave him purpose.</p><p>Keeping watch also afforded him another advantage: he could stray much further down the river, away from the crowds but within line of sight of the lanterns, able to enjoy the procession without the ruckus and eyes of the whole community on him. He had found a little clearing a few years ago, just at the edge of the illusion spell which protected the Silvergrove; there he could sit and keep an eye on both the border and the lanterns - apart, but still a part of the festival, in his own way.</p><p>It was this clearing he headed towards now, keeping eyes and ears on the Moonshadow Forest as he went in the unlikely event of attack. In doing so, he made his first mistake of the night. Too focused was he on possible dangers <em>outside </em>the illusion’s borders that he did not pay enough attention to what was <em>inside</em>.</p><p>Someone was already there.</p><p>Runaan froze in the tree-line barely three feet from colliding into an elf sitting by the riverbank, a couple of unlit paper lotuses at his side. One white, one purple. The elf’s silhouette was unfamiliar to him — but then again, most were. Runaan’s social circle consisted of the assassins guild and little else (and ‘social’ was being generous). He probably knew more blades by name than he did elves’ — and had longer relationships with them too.</p><p>The stranger had choppy white hair and earthy brown skin, purple undertones highlighted by lilac tattoos swooping in circular patterns down toned arms. He hadn’t noticed Runaan yet, hunched over with one arm was raised to cover his face as he…</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Oh <em>no.</em></p><p>Was he <em>weeping</em>?</p><p>Runaan took a panicked step back into mistake number two.</p><p>The sharp snap of a twig under his foot shattered the silence. The stranger jerked his head up and looked over his shoulder. Wide and very wet amber eyes locked onto him. The elf was around the same age as Runaan, barely of age, and the tearful expression left him looking even younger, child-like.</p><p>“Sorry,” Runaan blurted, horrified at not only interrupting a personal moment but that he’d been <em>caught</em>, like some amateur on his first stealthing session. Humiliation burned across his cheeks. He prayed his shadow-form would conceal it.</p><p>The elf gave him a weak smile and, wiping his eyes, stood to meet him. “No. I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse from crying, but he spoke with a lilting accent that Runaan found quite musical. “Is this your place?” the elf asked, sweeping a hand out to indicate the clearing. It was common for elves to have regular spots where they released their lanterns from each year, and it was bad manners to take another’s. “I didn’t think anyone would come this far out.”</p><p>Runaan’s fingers flexed, anxious without a handle or bow to wrap around as he tried to navigate the treacherous Midnight Desert that was <em>conversation</em>. “…It’s not. Not mine.” Not really. Just because he had used it the last few years didn’t make it his, exactly. It was a convenient location, nothing more personal beyond that.</p><p>The elf gave him a bemused look. Runaan averted his eyes, having no idea what else to say. In a bid to end this for both their sakes — he was sure the other elf felt self conscious at being caught crying — he bowed formally at the waist. “Forgive the intrusion.” And then turned to beat a quick retreat.</p><p>“Oh, look! It’s starting.”</p><p>Runaan paused and glanced upstream as the first few paper lanterns drifted towards them.</p><p>“You should stay or you’ll miss it.”</p><p>Runaan looked to the elf, hesitating. He was right, he didn’t have time to find another spot, not one that worked for both lantern-watching and guard duty. But if he stayed it meant spending an uncomfortably long time not only with a stranger, but a stranger <em>prone to crying</em>. Runaan didn’t much care for emotions. He would rather go back to the crowd. At least there he could find some sense of anonymity, could slip among the group and pretend to be just one face among many. There was no hope of doing that when there was only two.</p><p>“I’d appreciate the company, really,” the elf added in a kind tone.</p><p>Damn. Runaan couldn’t think of a polite way to turn that down, so he resigned to his fate with a stiff nod. He let his shadow-form dissipate. The elf rewarded him with a smile as warm as the sun, and sat back down, indicating Runaan do the same. A gracious host.</p><p>Runaan tried to find a seat that was both far enough away to respect personal boundaries while not so far as to cause offense. A challenging feat given how small the clearing was. He finally decided on a spot and sank cross-legged, straight-backed, hands deceptively lax in his lap as he trained his eyes on the lanterns, giving his companion a semblance of privacy lest more tears were to come. The silence didn’t last very long.</p><p>“Didn’t you bring a lotus?”</p><p>Runaan glanced at the elf from the corner of his eyes, then down at the boy’s lanterns. He shook his head, his side-braids gently moving with the motion.</p><p>“Oh…Well, I don’t think Mum will mind sharing, so you can have this one.” The elf picked up the purple lotus and offered it to him.</p><p>Runaan stared at it, flummoxed by the gesture. “I…That is unnecessary.”</p><p>The elf arched a dark brow. “Is there no one you wish to honor?”</p><p>That was…There was no way to answer that without raising more questions, so Runaan reached over the divide between them to accept the third mistake of the night. He held the paper lantern awkwardly on the flat of his palms, trying to touch it as little as possible as if expecting it to bite. Something stirred at the edges of his memory, but back then his hands had been much smaller and the lantern had felt very big, the weight of it almost too much to bear. Runaan grimaced and pushed the memory aside, and peered inside the lotus.</p><p>His brow furrowed. “…There is no candle.”</p><p>The other elf chuckled. “How very observant of you. Nope, I designed these myself. It always seemed strange that we use fire for a moon ceremony, don’t you think?”</p><p>Designed? Runaan looked up at the elf, this time really looked. The young man was dressed in the loose practical clothing of a worker, not someone adept at jumping through trees. His face so expressive, no tears now, just a kind smile and warm eyes that twinkled at him in the glow of the passing lanterns. Runaan wasn’t used to it, conditioned to search for the subtlest changes on his mentor’s face to know whether he had performed well or not in training. He had schooled his own face to be as still and serene as a lake. An assassin could ill afford to be emotional.</p><p>“I use gems,” the elf continued to explain, and he glanced down to dig something out of the pouch at this hip. Asymmetrical bangs fell low over his eyes. They bothered Runaan instantly, his sense of symmetry affronted. His fingers itched to push them back into order. How did the boy put up with them? “I enchanted them to glow when activated,” the elf finished, pulling out two little crystals and offered one to Runaan.</p><p>Runaan took it but waited to see what the other elf did with his first.</p><p>Nimble fingers, well practiced at handling something so delicate, settled the crystal into a little notch at the heart of the lotus. The elf hugged it reverently against his chest and closed his eyes. “Just imagine the faces of the people you want to honor,” he said in a soft dreamy voice, his accent rolling pleasantly. He was silent a moment, his expression turning inward. Sad. Runaan felt his discomfort spike, unsure he should be watching something so personal.</p><p>Then the lantern bloomed to life with a glow as ethereal as the moon.</p><p>Oh. It was <em>beautiful.</em></p><p>A definite improvement over the candles.</p><p>The elf opened eyes shimmering with tears, but the smile he gave Runaan was soft and encouraging. “See? Not so hard. Your turn.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>
  <em>Imagine the faces of the people you want to honor.</em>
</p><p>Runaan stared sickly at the lotus, not sure what to do.</p><p>Perhaps his face was not so schooled after all, as the elf’s fingers reached out and touched the back of his glove, barely any weight at all, but Runaan flinched all the same. The boy leaned in, trying to catch his gaze from under those ridiculous bangs. “It helps if you close your eyes.”</p><p>Runaan swallowed thickly. <em>That’s what I’m afraid of.</em></p><p>But Moonshadow elves weren’t supposed to be afraid of anything.</p><p>He screwed shut his eyes, heart pounding in his ears. He took in a deep breath through his nose out and through his mouth, trying to settle himself just like before meditation.</p><p>He could do this. An assassin was always in control.</p><p>
  <em>Imagine the faces.</em>
</p><p>Brow furrowing, he tried to cast back…Back, back, back to a time now as faded as his shadow-form. Two familiar silhouettes began to mold in his mind’s eye.</p><p>A tightness formed in his chest.</p><p>
  <em>The faces.</em>
</p><p>They swirled and rippled like water. The ache in his chest grew. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t get the image to settle. What color had their eyes been? The shape of their noses? It had been so many years. Had she had dimples when she smiled? <em>Had</em> she smiled? Were his brows thick or narrow? Was his expression usually stern or serene? Runaan couldn’t remember. He had refused to think about them for so long that he couldn’t remember anymore. They were vague. Blurred. Faceless.</p><p>
  <em>You’ve ghosted the memory of your own parents.</em>
</p><p>Runaan blinked open eyes filled with dismay.</p><p>A heavy silence descended on the clearing, carried along on the petals of the floating lotuses. Runaan said nothing, too ashamed, staring fixedly at the forest floor as his mind swirled in panic. The other elf must have deduced something was wrong when his lantern didn’t light.</p><p>“…It’s okay,” he said, far too understanding. It only made Runaan’s shame worse. “It works with a feeling too.”</p><p>A feeling? Runaan’s eyes shot up, flashing with hostility. How was that any better? Was he supposed to just sit here and dwell on how it had <em>felt</em> to be orphaned? How it <em>felt</em> to survive when they did not? How it<em> felt</em> to be <em>powerless to help them?</em> What good would that do? How would that honor his parents? How would that help <em>anything</em>?!</p><p>No, this was absurd. He didn’t <em>feel</em> anything. He was an assassin.</p><p>He had killed those emotions a long time ago.</p><p>Runaan shoved the lotus back into the other boy’s hands and stood. “I have to go,” was all the farewell he gave before shifting back into his shadow form and escaping into the blanket of the night, grinding his jaw as he put as much distance between himself and the lanterns as he could.</p><p>Left alone in the clearing, Ethari stared wide-eyed after the elf’s abrupt exit. After he realized the other elf would not return, his expression turned introspective. He glanced down at the unlit lotus in his hands, his mind playing over the fierce look those turquoise eyes had given him. He brushed his fingers over the petals as if to soothe a ruffled shadowpaw. “Please forgive him. You must mean a lot if he struggles this much to let you go.”</p><p>The lotus, predictably, said nothing.</p><p>Ethari gave a wry smile and closed his eyes. He hadn’t managed to get the other elf’s name, so he did his best to conjure up the image of long perfect white hair, serious mouth and cute tattooed nose, and sent a silent prayer to the elf’s ancestors on his behalf. It only felt right. The crystal glowed and Ethari set the lantern down on the river amidst the others. He took up his own flower still lit with his prayers to his father who had passed away just that spring — the loss still fresh — and to his mother who had passed on years prior, and gave it one last kiss before settling it into the water to follow after its friend.</p><p>“I miss you both,” he whispered softly, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched all the lanterns glide along the river to greet the approaching dawn.</p><p> </p><p>~xoXox~</p><hr/><p><b>AN:</b> Did I mention this was going to be a slow-burn?</p><p>Dedicated to <b>RutBisbe</b> for getting me into The Dragon Prince and subsequently, Ruthari. It’s all her fault.</p><p>This is my first attempt at writing TDP/Ruthari. Let me know what you think. I’m still stretching my writing chops with these two, so forgive any bumps along the way.</p><p> </p><p><b>NB</b>: At the time of writing this, we only have 3 seasons available (incase later seasons end up contradicting anything I’ve written here. But if turns out that Runaan isn’t an orphan (or at the very least, estranged), I’ll eat a plate of Lujanne’s grubs. It just makes <em>far too much sense</em>).</p><p> </p>
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